


Rise and Fall

by Leotto



Series: Push and Pull [2]
Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Recovery, in the middle of the night, swimming in the ocean, wet boys by the campfire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leotto/pseuds/Leotto
Summary: Unintended continuation of alternate ending fic, Push and Pull.
Relationships: Angelo Lagusa | Avilio Bruno/Nero Vanetti
Series: Push and Pull [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906348
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Rise and Fall

The moonless sky above was filled with myriads of stars. Dark surface of the ocean reflected every one of those lights like a mirror and created an illusion like they were looking into the vast universe. A strand of that world reaches out to the two sitting on the beach in silence. Steady push and pull of the waters beckoned them, though the calling didn't quite reach their ears.

Two men sat across a campfire. They looked shaggy like they had slept on the sand earlier, but their faces weren't as miserable as their state. There was an intangible yet certain camaraderie thick about them, just as sure as there was smoke when there was fire. Since the last time they shared a heat in the night, a certain weight had lifted off their shoulders. Both of their wounds were still raw and aching, but they let each other see their vulnerable sides and accepted them for what they were.

Nero stood up from where he sat, discarding his jacket, vest and shoes into a careless pile.

Angelo raised his eyebrow at him. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Going for a dip, what else?" He pulled his shirt off his back and Angelo could see various scars inflicted upon the body. Slash from a knife, starburst of a gunshot and many other scratches unable to determine the origins of painted the canvas that was Nero. They told a story of what kind of man he was. Angelo wondered if he could ask to hear those stories one day.

"I feel disgusting after taking a salty nap on the beach." Nero's hands undid his buckles and Angelo averted his eyes.

"I would like to not see your naked ass. Thanks." He brought a hand forward so he could hide Nero's silhouette behind it. Nero could spy the amber eyes shining between the gap of his fingers though. He turned his back towards the seated man and dropped his pants, leaving the underwear on.

"You're welcome." Then he ran off into the dark waters and dove in. A few seconds later, Nero's head popped out between the waves, with a refreshed sigh. "Get in here, Angelo."

He looked at the head bobbing on the surface like buoy and shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine where I am."

"Come on. You are not going to stay in that salt crusted, sand covered clothes for another day, are you?" Nero swam closer to the beach, pulling his upper body out of the water, the sprays rolling down his chest in beads.

"Even if I join you, the clothes will remain salt crusted and sand covered. Where am I going to wash them?" Angelo answered, stretching his leg out in front of him. Nero seemed to tilt his head a little bit to ponder on that fact, but did not relent.

"You are no fun." The taller man had pulled himself up on the beach and was now walking towards the campfire, thin and wet fabric clinging to his skin.

"Fun? Since when did you expect me to be the fun one?" Angelo busied himself, checking all his pockets for a cigarette, only to find his pack empty. He crumpled up the empty carton and threw it into the fire, sighing. Nero stared at him with upturned eyebrows, which Angelo pointedly ignored.

Then there was a hand on Angelo's upper arm, hauling him up off his feet. "Nero?!" He sounded a little panicked, and resisted the pull but Nero was far stronger than him in brute force. He was leaving deep tracks on the sand and getting dragged to the shoreline like a cow to the slaughter house.

“Let go, you idiot!” He frantically tried to pry off the fingers clamped around his arm, but they remained an iron shackle. His executioner looked over his bare shoulder and grinned at him.

“Like I said, you are no fun. It’s time you loosen up a little.” He pulled the younger man up in front of him, then got his arm under his legs and tossed him into the merciless waters.

“Nero, I can’t--!”

Angelo couldn’t even scream as he was plunged into the unfathomable depth of the ocean with a loud splash. Nero was holding his middle and laughing merrily at how uncharacteristically panicked he was. He was enjoying the sight of Angelo flailing around, with his hands slapping the water loudly. Then all of a sudden, there was nothing other than the push and pull of the waves upon the sand. Nero stood at the edge of the sea foam, waiting for the other’s head to break the surface, but it did not come. He wondered if Angelo was trying to prank him. He wouldn’t put it past the kid. Then he remembered how panicked he looked, combined with uncoordinated movements in the water--

“SHIT!”

Nero waded back into the waves trying to keep him land bound. They were clutching at his ankles like a hungry animal would, hindering his every move when every second counted. He dove to search for signs of Angelo. The starlight didn’t penetrate far, making the depths of water look as murky as the void that filled the skies above. He frantically searched, until he caught a glimpse of pure white that caught a sliver of light. He grabbed hold of the back of the shirt and dragged him up to the surface.

Angelo immediately started sputtering, spitting out water and gasping for breath. He was clawing and holding onto Nero with desperation enough to drag the taller man down under. 

“Damn it, calm down! I’m trying to save you!” Nero yelled at the other, but he was well beyond listening to the word of reason. He resorted to punching the side of Angelo’s head, sending him into a momentary shock. Nero used that opportunity to drag him all the way out to the shore.

Both men sprawled on the sand as soon as the solid surface was under their hands and knees and gasped for breath.

The pale man had grown paler, bowing his head low and coughing out all the waters out of his lungs. Nero was looked up at the sky, trying to calm his heaving chest and his rampaging mind at what he had done.

“Nero… You idiot!” Angelo spat at him with a hoarse voice, in between the coughs. He wiped the mouth with the back of his hand and slowly crawled back to where the campfire was lit. He curled up on his side by the fire, looking as though he was trying to hug it.

“You already had your chance if you wanted to kill me.” Nero couldn’t place if the voice was upset or disappointed. He walked up to the fire and sat behind Angelo, looking at the wet fabric clinging to his lithe form.

“Hey now. Don’t start that up again. I didn’t know you couldn’t-” 

“And I was trying to tell you, until you just threw me to my doom without waiting for the answer.”

Nero hung his head in shame. “Sorry.”

Angelo didn’t answer him. Instead he continued to look into the fire. Nero couldn’t see his face, but he could guess what he would look like. Angelo had that look that detached his soul from his body, as if to protect himself from all things in the world, including his own mind.

“My father was supposed to teach me how to swim on our first family trip to Florida.” He started speaking without any preface. Nero had to admit that he was a little taken back. Angelo had never talked about his past with him, let alone about his family in this direct manner. He wondered if the young man was hurting as he spoke of the memory, or he was always in a constant state of pain that little sting no longer registered.

“The trip never happened, so...” Angelo stopped like that was enough explanation for all of this. He flipped onto his back and looked up at the stars, pointedly avoiding looking into Nero’s face who was searching his face.

Angelo looked so tired, but it wasn’t just the physical exhaustion that drew that haunted look onto his face. They both knew the treacherous trip down the memory lane to where Avilio has begun has started again and there was nothing he could do to stop it, but to--

“I’m sorry.” Nero apologized again and Angelo didn’t answer him.

The silence draped around them like the wet clothes on Angelo’s body. It was obvious, uncomfortable but no one dared to remove it first.

An ocean breeze rushed by them, making Angelo shiver and grip his arms.

“You’re gonna have to get out of those clothes. You’ll catch a cold.” Nero admonished, trying to get him to sit up.

“I’ll survive.” The younger man shook off the offending hand of help, and sat up by himself, turning his back towards Nero.

“Unless you want me to manhandle you again, get out of those clothes while you can make the choice.” Nero’s threat was never an idle thing whether he meant well or not. Angelo sighed.

He turned his head a bit, as if to look over his shoulders, but his wet hair obscured his eyes. Light from the fire framed his silhouette as he dropped the suspender over one shoulder, then the other. Once free of the straps, he started to unbutton his thoroughly soaked shirt. It clung to him like second skin and it took some convincing for it to leave him completely. Then he took off his pants, water still dripping off from the cuffs. He kept the underwear on though, despite how soaked it was just the same as the rest of him.

Nero felt like he was witnessing something both sacred and lecherous, as if he should not be sitting here and watch Angelo undress like some kind of shadow theater, but he could not take his eyes off of him. He clung to the last of his decorum and bit his lip to refrain from touching the exposed skin that would surely be cold.

Instead, he took the wet clothes from Angelo, finally trying to avert his eyes. He hung them on the low hanging branch nearby, hoping they’ll be dry by the morning.

When Nero returned shortly after, Angelo had curled up into a tight ball, trying to keep himself warm. He dropped his overcoat, one of the few articles of clothing that aren’t completely soaked at this point, onto those bare shoulders. Then he sat next to him with his jacket on his own naked back.

They were close enough to know each other was freezing to the bone, but not close enough to warm each other.

“I’m s--”

“Stop apologizing.” Nero’s words are cut off before they can finish.

“I don’t care. I’m going to do it anyways.” Nero shot back and took a deep breath. However, he didn’t speak for a long time, making Angelo think maybe he decided against it after all.

“Sorry. For throwing you into the water. It just seems like another thing in the long chain of deeds that I inflicted upon you without ever asking or listening.” He paused and looked over at Angelo’s profile. He looked forlorn, like all the progress they made so far had washed away by the sudden plunge.

“But I won’t apologize for not shooting you that day. As long as we are alive, we can go on living.” He searched Angelo’s face, daring him to agree.

“I told you. I need something more than that.” The same answer they both have heard before came, and Nero replied back to him without a pause.

“I’ll teach you how to swim.”

“--Excuse me?”

“You lived this long with the thought of wanting to see the ocean. So, you can live just as long with the thought of learning how to swim. With what I have seen, it might even take a lifetime.”

Despite being dressed as they are, sitting by a dying fire on a remote beach where there’s nothing but the sound of rolling waves crashing onto the sands, that sounded awful a lot like a proposal.

“Nero Vanetti. You are a fool.” Angelo’s words were harsh, but his expression was not.

“A fool that’s going to teach you a very important lesson in life.” Nero slowly extended his own palm. Angelo did not flinch when those fingers landed on his cheek. Initial contact was cold, but it quickly warmed the longer it stayed. Angelo closed his eyes, learning into the touch.

“...I don’t think I’ll ever learn how to swim.”

An understanding smile bloomed on Nero’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> One shot that stemmed of a particular image in my head (you know you paused when you got to that bit. I know. >:3c) and decided to make it a part 2 of Push and Pull.


End file.
